


One of the many things

by jturner36



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jturner36/pseuds/jturner36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meredith reflecting after Derek is shot; post season 6 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of the many things

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to swimmom and indigo blue for their advice and comments.
> 
> Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

In the span of twelve hours, my life – our lives – changed in ways that may take years to process. I was shocked this morning about the baby, but happy. I can't even explain why I was happy, because there's no way I would have planned it now. The timing was terrible. And then, the timing was awful.  
  
I cried in the shower. I know people must have heard me, but I didn't care. I cried and tried to wash the day down the drain. Somehow, on the bench right outside of the shower curtain, tucked discreetly inside my fresh scrubs was a sanitary pad. I will never have the words to thank Cristina. For everything.  
  
I was scared in the O.R., even after Mr. Clark left. Not that I didn't trust Cristina, because I did. I just didn't trust fate. Fate has a habit of breaking my heart and taking the things and the people I love away from me. So, while my hands were busy stroking his hair, my heart was hanging on to him. To the things I love about him.  
  
 _The day after the foundation was poured, he put two lawn chairs on the grass. We drank champagne, and when he pointed out where our bedroom will be, his eyes were twinkling._  
  
I want to run to his room in the ICU but I walk. Mostly because my legs feel achy and weak, and I’m cramping, so I’m slow. Slower than I’d like to be.  
  
 _The spot where his jaw and neck meet arouses me. I bury my nose and breathe his scent._  
  
I can’t shake it. That rusty, metallic smell of blood. His blood on my scrubs. My blood. It’s overwhelming. Just too much.  
  
 _Because I’m someone you need to get to know to love. And then his face broke out into his cocky, charming, silly grin. He didn’t know it, and I've never told him, but it started right then._  
  
He smiles at me when I walk in. Despite the horror of the day, he smiles. His eyes tell me he's been waiting. The room is darkened, and he's hooked up to a heart monitor, so I can hear the beeps slowing when I approach the bed. He was asking for me.  
  
 _The gentle scrape of his face against my neck._  
  
Now that I'm closer, I can see more clearly. He has no color in his face. His beard looks dark, odd in contrast.  
  
 _The way he nips at my breasts with his mouth, teasing._  
  
“How are you?” I ask as I kiss him. He’s lost a lot of blood, and his lips are white and cool, but still butter-soft.  
  
“Drugs,” he responds, nodding ever so slightly.  
  
“Do you need anything?”  
  
He closes his eyes and exhales, “You.”  
  
 _Goosebumps dot his skin when he climaxes. I love the visual proof of how he feels, of what I do to him._  
  
“Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”  
  
“Um,” he replies, with a halfhearted nod of his head. I buzz for the nurse, who comes in immediately. “A warmed blanket for Dr. Shepherd, please.”  
  
 _Later, much later on, he confessed that he likes it when I drink tequila. I said it must be due to its reputation as an aphrodisiac, but he shook his head, his eyes soft and loving. It tastes sweet on your mouth when we kiss, Meredith._  
  
“Are you thirsty, do you want something? Water or ice chips?”  
  
“No.” A beat, then he looks at me intently. “Mom?”  
  
“I called her. She‘s okay. I mean, she‘s not okay, but I told her you were fine, and so….” She‘s really not okay, Derek. No one is.  
  
“Reed. And…?” His grief is beginning to show, and he visibly tenses.  
  
“Alex was shot.” I tell him quietly, because if I say it out loud, I will scream. His eyes get wide and his heart rate begins to race. “But he’s okay, last I heard,” I hasten. “He’s at Seattle Pres. Lexie and Mark are with him. Owen was shot in the shoulder; he’s okay, too. April and I took care of him. There are others, I'm not even sure who yet. Charles was shot and killed. Bailey tried to save him, but….” Tears threaten. I blink, blink, blink.  
  
 _He grips my waist, grazes my back, plays with my hair. He knows me as if he sculpted me._  
  
Derek tries to reach up and touch my face but falls short, tethered by the IV and, I suppose, lack of strength. His beautiful, warm, skilled surgeon hand is taped and stuck and cold with antibiotics and saline. I take it, strange as it feels, and caress it gently.  
  
“Misser….“ Derek licks his lips. “Clark.”  
  
“Self-inflicted GSW. He’s dead.”  
  
“Oh.” He exhales, and his face relaxes a bit. His fingers twitch, looking for something. He needs more morphine. I help position the button in his hand and he presses it, looking for relief.  
  
I continue, carefully choosing my words, the gatekeeper of terror. “Cristina…was – Derek, she….” She looked death in the face, and she saved you for me. “Cristina did everything. It was a really tough repair, but she was flawless. You're going to be okay. You're going to be fine. She saved your life.”  
  
“Hmm.” He smiles and chuckles softly. “King-sized bed.” Long pause. “Three of us.”  
  
He means us and Cristina, he doesn't know any better, but I do and I cry silently. There was a little part of him, a tiny speck of his DNA twirled and entwined with mine, and I couldn’t take care of it, because I thought he died.  
  
“Shh, Mer.” His eyelids are heavy now and he struggles to stay awake. I sniffle and swipe at my face and take deep breaths while I try to compose myself.  
  
 _Derek loves sex. All kinds of sex. Fast, slow, romantic, playful, sweet. But every once in a while, there’s a dark longing, an unquenchable need in his eyes and he's demanding and hungry and unrestrained. He overwhelms me, renders me submissive. I’m never submissive. Except for him._  
  
My voice is hushed now and fatigue sets in as I lay my head down on his bed, facing him. “Derek, it was going to be such a great night.”  
  
His eyes close. A brief smile plays at his lips. “Dirty…” but he can’t finish. The morphine is pulling him under, and he doesn't have the strength to fight it.  
  
“I know. Dirty sex.” I can't stop touching him.  
  
“S'rry. Pra-tice.” Deep breath. “No pra...practice…for ’while.”  
  
“That's okay. I love you.” I stroke and rub his arm, more for me now I think than for him. “I'm so glad you're okay.”  
  
“I'm 'kay.” All tension leaves his body and he's breathing quietly, slowly.  
  
"Okay.”   
  
“I pr’mis’d. Din’ die.”  
  
I smile and nod as he drifts off to sleep. “You didn’t.”  
  
But I thought you did. When you died, I died.  
  
And just like that, we all died.


End file.
